


The Wrong Trousers

by DementedPixie



Series: Demented Pixie's Buckystuckyfanfic [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Avengers: Endgame Fix-It, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Tai Chi for Health and Wellbeing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 17:41:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18674413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DementedPixie/pseuds/DementedPixie





	The Wrong Trousers

Since Steve and T’Challa had brought him to Wakanda, Bucky had learned that there were many different methods available to him to help with the control of his Hydra conditioning. And so, since then, every morning had begun the same way. 

Balancing his weight on the balls of his feet, he brought his hands level with his navel, fingers splayed out and strong, the middle fingers touching. With a deep inhale his hands rose to just above his eyeline. 

Pause. Exhale and lower. Breathe out. 

He moved the right hand above the left, forming a ball of energy between them. Turning his left foot outwards, he moved the invisible ball to his left hip, then returned to the centre. He stretched his right hand forward, left hand strong, squeezing the energy between them. Every movement was smooth, fluid, graceful. 

Peaceful. 

In complete contrast, a few feet away, Steve Rogers was struggling. With the addition of Erskine’s serum Steve was one of the strongest men on the planet. Fast on his feet, muscular, powerful, with enhanced senses. But that didn’t necessarily mean he was good at absolutely everything. He huffed and puffed, fell over his own feet, fumbled the hand positions and completely forgot to breathe, let alone breathe at the right times. 

“Bucky?” he hissed.

Bucky steadfastly ignored him, focussing entirely on balancing his inner Chi energy. He turned his right foot to an angle and gracefully transferred his weight onto it, moving his arms in wide circles as if drawing clouds in the sky. In complete control he traversed into three further elements, an expression of concentrated serenity on his face.

To his credit, Steve tried hard to follow, really he did. But he always seemed to have his weight on the wrong foot at exactly the wrong moment and, in the end, he did something that Captain America rarely did. He gave up. He walked over to the nearby wooden bench and plonked himself down on it. 

At first, he felt thoroughly fed up. He had promised to support Bucky in this and was annoyed with himself for failing. But then, as he sat there brooding, he started to feel an inner peace of his own, as Bucky’s graceful, fluid movements gradually created a hypnotising effect on him. Steve watched him closely and tried to force his own breathing to mirror Bucky’s. Slowly, Steve began to move into a controlled meditative state of his own. 

He closed his eyes and relaxed into it. 

The man who was Steve Rogers, not the figurehead ‘Captain America’, had become so very, very tired. The last five years of grieving had changed him in a way that he would never have predicted. Five years of grief for himself, surrounded by a world that was also grieving. He’d tried to help as many people as possible, running self help groups, trying to lift people’s spirits, but somewhere along the way he’d forgotten to look after his own welfare too. The world had fallen into a deep well of despair and Steve had been dragged down with it. 

“Steve?”

Bucky’s voice was gentle, as was the hand that he stroked Steve’s shoulder with. Steve startled out of his reverie, somewhat dazed, as Bucky sat down beside him. 

He gave a shuddering breath. “Buck?”

“You’re crying,” explained Bucky, reaching up to wipe tears from under Steve’s eyes. 

Steve visibly pulled himself together and scrubbed his face with the back of his hands. 

“Oh, God. Sorry. Jesus. What a sap.”

“It’s okay.” Bucky smiled in encouragement. “You need to get this out. It’s only me.”

“I… I don’t even know… Bucky…” 

Steve was hiccupping now, his face turning to crimson as the tears fell more than ever. Bucky placed his hand on Steve’s back and rubbed circles on it, trying to ground him.

“It’s okay. This is a safe place. You’re with me. Let it all out, Steve. It’s okay.”

Steve dropped his head forward, hyperventilating as Bucky continued gently rubbing his back, his distress quickly reaching a point where Bucky truly began to fear for his friend’s health and wellbeing.

“Stevie, can you listen to me?” asked Bucky, his voice quiet and gentle. “I want you to tell me five things you can see. Can you do that?”

“Five things…?” hiccupped Steve.

“You can see. That’s right.”

Steve looked up, gasping for breath. “I… I can see you.”

“Good,” smiled Bucky, encouragingly. “And?”

“Clouds.” Steve looked around at his surroundings. “Trees. Flowers. The lake.”

“That’s it. Now tell me four things you can touch. You can do this, Steve. Just four things.”

Steve reached into his pocket and, with shaky hands, pulled out his old World War Two compass. 

“This,” he said, then reached for Bucky’s metal hand. “And this.”

“Actually name them,” whispered Bucky. 

“My compass. Your arm. The bench. Your hair.” He reached up to run the ends of Bucky’s hair through his fingers. 

“Three things you can hear. Come on Steve, just for me?”

“Your voice,” replied Steve. “A bird. The wind in the trees.”

“Almost there. Two things you can smell.”

Steve leaned into where Bucky was still rubbing his back. “Your aftershave. And I don’t smell too good.”

“You’re getting there now. One thing you can taste. Just one thing.”

“Mint. My toothpaste. Wise-ass.” Steve smiled at him in wonder, his breath calmer now, and the tears beginning to dry up. 

“Yeah, but I’m your wise-ass.”

Bucky removed his hand from Steve’s back and together they relaxed a little, leaning back on the bench and watching the clouds as they left reflections on the lake. 

A few minutes went by in companionable silence, during which Bucky snuck occasional glances at Steve which Steve noticed but chose to ignore. 

“You ready to tell me yet?”

Steve took a deep breath. “Buck…”

“You need to talk, Steve. And it might as well be to me.”

Unable to look his old friend directly in the eye, Steve gazed out at the calm water stretching out before them. 

“I can’t do this anymore, Buck.”

“This?” asked Bucky, quietly. 

“I can’t be Captain America anymore. I’m tired. Really tired. And I’ve been so… sad. Without you. Without Peg.”

“I’m here now, Steve.”

Steve turned towards him and grasped one of his hands in his. 

“I know, Buck, I do know. And I’m more grateful than words can say. But if I stay here then I’ll always be the one in the red white and blue, the one with the shield. The one everyone relies on. I don’t have it in me anymore. The feeling of loss has been… unbearable. I can’t lose anyone else. And…” 

“What is it?” asked Bucky. “Go on, you can tell me.”

“I want a life, Buck. I know it’s… selfish. But all I’ve known since the day Erskine injected me with that serum is a life of service. I came out of the ice and really had no choice but to serve and it’s all been about fighting, and killing, and death. And I don’t want that. Not anymore.”

Bucky inclined his head slightly, taking all this in. “So where do you want to go?”

“I want to take the infinity stones back, as soon as Bruce is ready with the… the…”

“Time machine.”

“Yeah, the time machine. But, and I don’t know how to say this to you. But… I don’t want to come straight back.”

“You want to go back in time?” guessed Bucky. 

“I do. I want a life. And I can’t have what I want here. When we were searching for the stones, I saw Peggy. It made me realise that maybe there was still a chance. But I’m not abandoning you.” Steve clenched at Bucky’s hand again. “I want to know if you’ll come with me.”

All this time Bucky had been exuding an air of calm confidence but this one statement pulled the ground from beneath his feet. 

“Steve! You… I…”

“I know. It sounds crazy. But you deserve a life too, Bucky. A life away from Hydra, and all the crap you’ve had to cope with. And I want you to know there will always been a place for you, with me. If that’s what you want.”

Bucky pulled his hand away from Steve’s grip and ran his fingers through his own hair. 

“I’m not a fighter anymore, either,” he said, thoughtfully. “But I can’t go with you, Steve. Not back there. I don’t really belong here but I don’t belong back there either. At least here I have Sam, and T’Challa and Suri. They understand me, they get me. My arm… it needs Wakandan tech to keep it operational. They’re still helping me with the trigger words, and, before Thanos, I had a life. A simple, quiet, peaceful life.” Bucky gazed at Steve. “But… I don’t want to be in a world without you.”

Steve lifted his chin, defiantly. “Then I won’t go.”

“Steven Grant Rogers, I don’t want to hear any such thing.”

“What?”

“You will go, if I have to drag you there myself.”

“But Bucky…”

“No, Steve. This is the right thing to do. You go back to Peggy and you get yourself that life, you hear me? You know how to come back if you need to. And while I think of it, you throw that shield at Wilson. He’s the best man for the job, and I’ll support him for as long he needs me to.”

Steve stood up then, tall and strong, the light breeze tousling his hair. He walked a few feet towards the waters edge, pausing for a moment before turning back to Bucky. Bucky, who would always remember how his friend looked that day, eyes the colour of the sky above him, a glimmer of optimism on his face that, until now, had been sadly lacking. That little chance of hope, of happiness, had brought back to him the Steve he knew. And for that, and only that, Bucky would give up his one true friend. 

Because he was with him till the end of the line.


End file.
